


Happily Ever After (Eventually)

by jaythenerdkid



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1593080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaythenerdkid/pseuds/jaythenerdkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of established Dandy drabbles and ficlets, mostly fluffy in nature. The general theme of the collection will be, as the title says, the little moments that lead to Danny and Mindy's own personal happily-ever-after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nocturne in B-Flat Minor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this idea came from, but it found its way into my head and I had to write it. The song Mindy is playing is Nocturne No. 1 in B-flat Minor, Op 9: No 1 by one of my all-time favourite composers, Frederic Chopin.

Danny wakes up early on a Saturday morning to two things he hadn't expected:

Firstly, Mindy is not in bed next to him.

Secondly, someone is in his living room playing his piano.

The idea that these two things might be related eventually occurs to him, not that this particularly clears up his confusion. Running a hand through sleep-mussed hair, Danny stumbles out of bed, cursing to himself as the sheets tangle around his legs and almost trip him over, and makes his way to the living room, squinting slightly against the pre-dawn light filtering through his shutters. There he finds his girlfriend (a little thrill runs through him at that - she's his  _girlfriend_ , that's something he can say to people now) sitting at the piano, tongue poking out and brow furrowed in concentration, haltingly picking out a melody Danny thinks he recognises from the classical radio station that plays in the doctors' lounge sometimes. Mindy plays in fits and starts, smooth arpeggios interspersed with awkward fingering and muttered curses, like someone riding a bicycle again for the first time in years, muscle memory kicking into gear after prolonged disuse.

Danny stands in the doorway and just watches for a while, amazed. Did he know Mindy played the piano? Did  _anyone_ know Mindy played the piano? He wants to say something, but something stops him - some sense that he'll ruin the moment, that this is something he was never meant to see and that he should therefore treasure the fact that he's getting to see it. He realises as Mindy's fingers play over the keys that she's actually pretty good - better than he is, at any rate (not that that's saying much), if a little out of practice.

He loves seeing her like this, focused and competent and lost in the moment. She's wearing the same expression he recognises from nights in the operating theatre during the fifth hour of a complex delivery. It's beautiful, the way her eyes go dark and her tongue flicks out to lick her lips every now and then and she seems so completely lost in her own little world. It's beautiful.  _She's_ beautiful.

Mindy finishes the melody with a little flourish and a satisfied smile quirks up the corners of her mouth. She looks up, and it's only then that she sees Danny there, staring at her open-mouthed, one hand absent-mindedly running over his stubble. Immediately it's like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar - she looks down, blushing, embarrassed at being caught in the act. She snatches her hands away from the keys as though she's been burned and Danny can see the first words of an apology he doesn't want or need to hear forming on her lips. He walks towards her and slides down onto the piano seat next to her instead, one arm wrapping around her waist, and plants a kiss in her hair.

"I didn't know you could play," Danny says eventually, holding one of her hands in his, examining her fingers as though he's seeing them for the first time. "That was pretty fancy, where'd you learn that?"

"Uh, well, you know." She shrugs against his chest. "I'm South Asian, Danny, it was this or the violin. It's pretty much the only thing I still remember how to play, I'm kinda out of practice," Mindy continues, still sounding a little embarrassed. "It's - it was Chopin. A nocturne. I went through a phase in tenth grade where I thought the romantic era composers were, like, the greatest thing ever, you know? Like the music that would play in the background while Darcy and Elizabeth shared smouldering glances or something." She looks up at him shyly and blushes. "I know it's stupid," she says. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"Hey," Danny says gently, catching Mindy's chin in one hand when she goes to look down again. "It's not stupid." He smiles and kisses her gently, barely more than a peck on the lips. "I thought it was beautiful."

"You did?" Mindy's eyes light up and a shy smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. She bites her lip in that way Danny finds so goddamn endearing and he has to kiss her again just for that.

"Yeah," he says. "It was beautiful. You're beautiful, Min." He pulls her close, pressing more kisses against her hair and enjoying the feel of her body against his. They sit like that in silence for a while, the glow of dawn filtering into the living room, warming everything it touches. It's one of those moments Danny knows he'll remember the next time he's on call at 2AM and he hasn't slept in days, one of those little pieces of perfection that make life worth it.

"So you're musical, huh, Min?" he says eventually, cracking that lopsided grin. "Who'd have known? I mean, anyone who's seen you at karaoke - " he breaks off, laughing, as she starts punching him in the shoulder and protesting.

"I'll have you know I am  _very_ musical," she informs him haughtily. "I played the alto saxophone in my high school's jazz band too, and I was a huge hit." Her eyes take on that glassy, far-off look they always get when she's relating a story. "One of the parents described my performance as 'nothing short of sublime'." She pauses. "That parent was my mom, but still."

"You don't say? You'll have to show me some time," Danny says with a smile. His girl is full of surprises. He likes that. He likes that they have a whole lifetime together to discover the little secret things about each other that nobody else knows.

"Maybe if you're very good," Mindy says cheekily, her earlier embarrassment now totally forgotten. "Mindy Lahiri blasting smooth jazz like a pro is not something just anyone gets to see, I'll have you know."

"Only if I'm very good?" Danny replies, voice dropping so it's a little husky. He leans in and whispers against her neck, "What if I'm very  _bad_?"

Mindy shivers in his arms and pulls him closer. "That can be negotiated," she replies a little breathlessly, and for the next half hour or so, the only music they make is completely  _a cappella._


	2. The New Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by **metrojen** at tumblr: _Established Mindy and Danny, it's Danny's 40th birthday and he's struggling/ depressed with getting older. Mindy's bday gift she's pregnant with their 1st baby._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing their ages on Season 1 info - Danny tells Eyepatch he's 38, and around that time, Mindy is around 33, making the age difference 5 or so years.

"Babe, wake up."

Danny is reluctant to open his eyes, but Mindy is kissing him insistently on the back of his neck in a way that's waking up the rest of him. He rolls over onto his back, eyes half-open and still foggy with the last vestiges of sleep, and catches her next kiss on his lips, pulling Mindy a little closer as he does. He feels her smiling against his mouth and can't resist smiling back. "What is it, Min?" he eventually asks, expecting one of her usual requests - blueberry pancakes for breakfast, a massage because she slept funny and her neck hurts, or that he needs to deal with a tiny spider in the bathroom so that she can shower.

What she says instead is: "Happy birthday, babe!"

That wipes the smile off his face.

It's not just that he doesn't like birthdays, though that's part of it. It's that this birthday is one of the  _big_ ones, and he's been trying all week not to think about how he's now forty (forty!) to his girlfriend's thirty-five. The age gap, which has never really seemed like a big deal until now, is suddenly a gaping chasm between them - he's in his forties to her thirties. Danny closes his eyes again, rubs at his temples - where a stress headache has started to develop - and wishes he could go back to sleep.

"Babe?" comes Mindy's concerned voice from next to him. He feels cool hands moving his aside and then she's running her hands through his hair and pressing light kisses down on his forehead, the way she always does when he seems sick. "Are you okay?"

Danny risks cracking one eye open slightly. Mindy is hovering over him, worry creasing her brow, the dawn light through their window behind them surrounding her in a faint halo. She looks beautiful, and more importantly, younger than him. Suddenly, there's a painful pounding in his chest, the same thing he'd always felt when he saw her in the arms of some other guy in the years before they finally got together. He doesn't think he can bear having to put up with that again.

"I'm forty," he says a little hoarsely, wincing when he hears the words out loud. " _Forty_ , Min," he repeats when Mindy just looks puzzled.

"Danny, we talked about the thing where you just repeat what you say in a different voice," Mindy replies, arching one brow slightly. "You know it doesn't help me understand you any better - "

" - It means I'm old," Danny interjects. He can feel the heat of a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I'm old and you're not and some day you're going to realise that and want someone else."

Mindy blinks. She stares at him, her mouth open as though she's trying to say something. Finally, she says, "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Danny opens his mouth to protest, but Mindy silences him with a finger over his lips. "Firstly," she says, "I know exactly how old you are, what kind of girlfriend do you think I am? Secondly, forty isn't  _old._ Sixty is old. Eighty? Definitely old. But forty? That's practically the new thirty and has been since I was twenty-five, what the hell are you worried about? And thirdly," she adds firmly when she can see Danny is about to protest again, "I wouldn't care if you were forty or a hundred-and-forty, you idiot, because I'm totally blinded by love and would be just as crazy about you all the same." She replaces her finger with her lips, kissing Danny soundly, stifling all further objections.

"Besides," she says as an afterthought between kisses, "you're totally going to be a hot old man. Like an Italian George Clooney. Or an Italian Hugh Grant. Or an Italian - "

" - All right, Min, I get it," Danny says, smiling weakly. He reaches up to caress her cheek. "You're really, uh, blinded by love, huh?" he asks hopefully, looking up into her eyes. They're huge and brown and warm and shining and he could get lost in them forever. "You really don't mind that I'm older than you?"

"Well, obviously, you old perv, or I wouldn't be with you, would I?" Mindy replies mischievously, kissing him again. "For all you know," she says between kisses, "I have a thing for older dudes. You know, like mega daddy issues, or my first TV crush was an old guy, or - "

" - You're really not helping here, Min - "

" - Okay, okay, I'll stop," she says with a cheeky grin. "I do have something that might cheer you up, though." She sits up in bed, back straight like she's about to recite something. "I went to the CVS yesterday - "

" - how is the story of you buying hair products going to cheer me up? - "

" - Danny, stop interrupting! Also, since when do I use drugstore hair products? Do you even  _know_ me, Danny? I mean,  _really_?"

Danny has to chuckle at that. "Okay, I'm sorry," he says. "Keep telling your story."

Mindy makes a little harrumphing sound and continues. "As I was trying to tell you before I was _rudely_ interrupted," she says, shooting him a glare, "I went to the CVS yesterday, because I needed to buy a pregnancy test."

"You..." Danny suddenly feels like there's not enough air in the room and he's sure he must have misheard. "Why did you need a pregnancy test?"

"You're a  _gynaecologist_ , Danny, why do you think?"

He stares at her for a moment, open-mouthed. "You mean, you're..."

"Yeah. I mean, I was gonna tell you later, I had this whole dinner planned and everything, but as you're constantly telling me when I don't feel like doing my laundry, there's no time like the present, right?" Mindy is looking at him a little shyly now, as though she's not sure how he'll take the news, one hand already hovering protectively over her belly. The silence stretches between them, Danny lying there flummoxed and Mindy sitting up on her knees next to him, twirling a strand of hair that's escaped her ponytail through trembling fingers.

Finally, Danny speaks. "I'm gonna be a dad?" he says, his voice cracking.

Mindy smiles and Danny finds himself grinning in response. "I'm gonna be a mom," she replies, taking one of his clammy hands in both of her cool, smaller ones. Danny can feel the calluses of their trade on the pads of her fingers, remembers how he's seen those hands perform delicate surgeries, remembers the feeling of them all over his body late at night. She's going to be the best mother in the world, he knows it.

He lifts her hands to his lips and kisses them reverently over and over again, across each knuckle and down to the wrist and then back up. "We're gonna be parents," he says, and he can't stop smiling as he says it.

"Happy birthday, babe," Mindy says, leaning down to kiss him.

Maybe turning forty isn't the end of the world, after all.


End file.
